


The Lindworm Prince and Lord Fox

by technorat



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Armitage Hux is Not Nice, Curse Breaking, Fairy Tale Retellings, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: Hux was a shape-shifter with a penchant for murder and lofty ambitions.Kylo Ren was cursed even before he was born to be a monster.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83





	The Lindworm Prince and Lord Fox

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: violence (though not entirely descriptive), references to child abuse, minor character deaths
> 
> I wrote this fic in a fever. As usual, I have such a weakness for fairy tale aus. I used the myth of the Lindworm in combination with Reynardine! Thought those stories suited Kylo and Hux well.

In little Arkanis, a castle sat upon a misty hill, one that dropped off into a cliff with the ocean far, far below. For many, many years it had been the dwelling of Lord Brendol Hux and his wife. The man was cruel and bitter, a sneer perpetually on his pale face. Arkanis paid its due to its lord in pearls and silver and part of their crops.

Brendol Hux had no children by his wife. The heir to Brendol Hux was a bastard.

Brendol beat the bastard bloody and locked him in small, dark rooms. Many days and years passed and in those days and years the cruel lord was cruelest to his own child. But Brendol was rich and powerful and not a soul lifted a hand to protect the bastard from these abuses.

Upon the bastard’s eighteenth birthday, it seemed that Brendol Hux’s luck turned. His investments went south, his staff left him for others, his crops went bad. And then Brendol Hux grew sick, grey, and died before the month’s end.

The bastard was a handsome fellow with hair like fire, eyes like the sea, lips red like wine. Never was he invited to a ball, but he arrived nonetheless, resplendent in white and gold. He danced for hours, his face cool and still, kept expressionless as he went from partner to partner. There were coying words showered upon him and kisses upon his gloved hands. He was a jewel to behold: lovely, ethereal, otherworldly.

At one of these balls, he took one of his gentleman admirers out to a garden and walked amongst the snow. Their breaths were white puffballs in the air. The bastard never shivered.

They talked for what felt like hours, what they said to one another mostly stayed between one another.

And then the bastard said, breath upon the other man’s cheek, “If by chance you look for me in Arkanis, perhaps you’ll find me not. But I will be in my castle. Enquire for Lord Fox.”

Sun and dark, his lovestruck suitor followed him, for his eyes shone so brightly, so hauntingly and his smile was sharp, almost feral.

Led the man right to his castle and then right off a cliff, did this sly, bold Fox.

Depending on where you began the story, it began with Armitage Hux, Lord Fox.

*

In Naboo, a wise queen married her beloved. They were happy, exceedingly happy, but the two were missing one thing—children. And this often made the queen and her prince consort sad. The queen wanted an heir to her kingdom and the prince consort wanted a dear little child to play with.

Queen Leia often went on walks though her gardens, thick with millaflowers. On one of these walks, Leia met an old wizard, one she had met before. They talked for ages, having not seen one another in a long, long time. (The wizard had been friends with Leia’s birth father and mother, but this was a tale for another time.)

He said, “My Queen, why do you look so doleful? I have read your letter and come, but I hope nothing is amiss.”

Leia smiled, wry but sad, and said, “Obi-Wan, I have gone to everyone that could help me, but none could solve my problem. You are my only hope, but even then I think that even you can do nothing.”

“Don’t be so sure of that,” the wizard said. “Let me hear your troubles and see what I can do.”

“Han and I don’t have children yet,” Leia said. She tugs at one of the elaborate braids piled atop her head. “Not for lack of trying.”

The wizard took her hands in his and said, “Leia, there is a way. Tonight, bring two fine cups from your kitchens to the gardens and place them over the dirt. Then go tomorrow and lift these cups to reveal two millaflowers. One will be white and the other blue. If you eat the white flower, a little boy will be born to you. If you eat the blue flower, a little girl will be born to you. But whatever you do, you _mustn’t_ eat two.” The wizard’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, but in his heart he thought of dear Padmé.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Leia said. She returned his smile.

So the queen went home and took two cups from the kitchens and did as she had been told. In the morning, two millaflowers waited for her: one white, one blue.

Leia stood there for a long time, unsure of which to choose. She ate both flowers. No one knows why. Perhaps she had wanted twins. Perhaps she liked the taste. Leia did not pay head to the wizard’s words, thinking them as an odd joke instead of a grave warning.

Time passed after this. Han went away on an old smuggling run, to the queen’s annoyance, and when he was away, the queen gave birth.

There was no baby boy. There was no baby girl.

Out came a lindworm, all scales and teeth and _hate_. It hissed at her once before it slithered out of the room, out of a window, out of Leia’s life. She was terribly afraid and, at the same time, so relieved. Not a word was said of the lindworm when Han returned.

Some time after, without the intervention of a flower one might add, the queen and king had another child: a lovely baby girl.

Many days and years passed and Princess Rey Organa grew up into a beautiful and strong woman and time came for her to be married. The queen sent her off to visit foreign kingdoms to look for a someone grand enough to be her spouse. But at the very first crossroads was the lindworm. It too had grown in the many years into a hideous beast, scarred and violent, big enough to scare even the bravest of souls. The lindworm lay down in the road and roared out, “A spouse for you, a spouse for me!”

Then Rey took out her sword and fought the lindworm, dealing it a great blow across its face. “Why are you doing this, you monster?” Rey demanded.

“A spouse for you, a spouse for me!” the lindworm cried again, uncaring of the blood that trickled down its scales. Another scar on its body did not matter.

And seeing how her people were frightened, Rey bade them to turn around and return home.

In Naboo, her mother confessed to her first child: the wicked lindworm those years ago. _He_ , for the lindworm was also a man, was the first born and ought to have a wedding first.

The wise queen was not a cruel one. But she did what she thought was necessary.

Leia wrote to Mustafar first, one of the kingdoms that had been united beneath the Empire, one of the kingdoms that had done nothing when the Emperor had slaughtered everyone of Alderaan but her.

They sent a princess, a lovely blushing thing. She was not allowed to see her would-be spouse until they stood together before an altar and were married and then it was too late for her to say that she would not have him. But the next morning, the princess was missing and the lindworm slept alone. It was quite clear that he had eaten her.

And so began the search again.

Depending on where you began the story, it began with the lindworm prince, Kylo Ren.

*

Unlike so many other times, Hux arrived with an invitation.

His greeting was none too warm. A handful of Leia’s men welcomed him. He was brought to a comfortable room.

“Am I to meet my would-be spouse?” he asked simply.

But the men stumbled over their words and did not meet his eyes.

Hux smiled slowly, warmth bleeding into his eyes. He was not stupid. In fact, he knew everything. Knew of the lindworm. Knew of the beautiful but dead princesses and princes. Knew that everyone else knew that the lindworm had not spared royalty and did not expect for him, a humble lord, to be spared either.

But should he survive, then, well, he’d be prince consort to a king, wouldn’t he?

Hux did not stay in his rooms but wanders through the gardens, fingers trailing against the fat petals of the millaflowers. Everyone had always underestimated him. But he still lived while those that raised hand against him were nothing but dust.

Still, he did not quite have a plan but to hope the lindworm liked gingers.

Lord Fox wandered without a thought, pressing sharp nails to the palms of his hands. There was an itching discomfort beneath his skin that made him want to shed it. It is then that he met a wizard, an old, shriveled man in plain robes.

“Why do you look so doleful, sir?” asked the wizard.

Hux let out a huff of air through his nostrils and shook his head. “I am afraid this is a heavy burden I must carry alone.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” said the wizard. “No burden is too heavy to share.”

There were no old men that Hux trusted in Arkanis growing up. So many men were ready to abuse him, to hit him, to scorn him. But the wizard seemed so genuine and kind and Hux let out a great, big sigh. “I am to be married to the Queen’s eldest child, who is a _lindworm_ , might I add. He has already married several princes and princesses and has devoured them all and it is quite likely that he will devour me too.”

Perhaps poison, Hux then thought. But it would do no good if both of them were dead.

“You needn’t be distressed,” said the wizard. “After the marriage ceremony is over, and when it is time for you and your husband to retire, you must be dressed in ten snow-white robes. You must ask for a tub full of lye and a tub full of fresh milk and all the whips a boy can carry in his arms and have these all brought to your wedding chambers. Then, when the lindworm bades you to remove a layer, bid him to remove a skin. When all of his skins are off, you must dip the whips in lye and whip him. Then, you must wash him in the fresh milk. Lastly, you must take him and hold him in your arms—if only for a moment.”

Hux shuddered, revulsion traveling through him. “The last step is the worst of them all,” he sneered.

“Do as I say and all will be well,” the wizard said, a twinkle in his eye. Then he disappeared behind a solid oak tree.

Hux did not look for him. There were many, many people with strange sorts of magic. He was among their number. He shifted his skin to that of a fox and trots off, on his merry way. For foxes were predators and he was one too.

*

When the wedding day arrived, Hux was brought to the wedding chamber to be dressed as the groom. And he asked for ten snow-robe robes and the tub of lye and the tub of milk and as many whips as a boy could carry in his arms. The people of the castle thought perhaps it was a folk tradition of Arkanis, for none have ever been to the dreary place, or perhaps some silly superstition. Queen Leia had rolled her eyes and said, “Let him have whatever he asks for.”

Hux was then given ten fine robes and looked like the finest of spouses. He was led to the hall in which the wedding would take place and saw the lindworm for the very first time as they stood side by side.

The lindworm was a large creature, all scales and teeth and pain. His eyes were amber, like bright, sweet honey but there was no warmth to them. They were married and a great wedding feast was held, fit enough for a queen.

The lindworm ate and ate, devouring whatever had been put before him. Hux, however, could not bring himself to be so enthusiastic. He picked at what little food he had on his plate, but mostly he just moved the food around.

Soon enough the lindworm grew full or tired or whatever feeling that lindworms felt and conducted himself and his husband to their wedding chambers. As soon as the door was shut, the lindworm turned to Hux and said, “Fair lord, shed a skin.”

Hux lifted his chin at the boldness of the command. “No one has dared to tell me to do that before,” he said unkindly. He let his cool eyes rake across the lindworm’s form and thought again of the wizard’s words. “Prince Lindworm, slough a skin first.”

The lindworm blinked in turn and said, “No one has dared tell me to do that before!”

Hux shrugged carelessly.

The lindworm began to moan and wriggle and within a few minutes a long snakeskin lay on the floor beside him. He panted eagerly and watched as Hux removed the first of his robes and placed it upon the snakeskin.

And then the lindworm said again to him, “Fair lord, shed a skin.”

And so Hux answered, “Prince Lindworm, shed a skin.”

And so this went on for nine times and nine of the lindworm’s skins lay across the floor and nine of Hux’s snow-white robes lay across the snakeskins. There was nothing left of the lindworm but a red, pulsing mass, most horrible to see. Hux grabbed the whips, dipped them in lye, and whipped the lindworm as hard as he could. Next he bathed him in the fresh milk, staining the milk a bright red. Finally, he grabbed what was left of the lindworm and dragged him into their wedding bed, wrapping his arms around the lindworm and trying very hard not to think about that fact.

In the morning, Hux woke up to a warm body within his arms and dark hair within his mouth. The lindworm within his arms was no longer a lindworm but a handsome prince. Scars littered his body, the very same scars that had marred the lindworm’s skins.

The lindworm was awake, his eyes the very same shade of warm amber.

“Good morning husband,” Hux said to the lindworm.

The lindworm watched him curiously and then, with a human arm, reached up and raked his fingers through Hux’s hair. The lindworm was crying, great heaves that shook his form. “You’ve broken this curse,” he said.

“Mm.” Hux is none too gentle when he takes the lindworm’s chin into his hand and moves the lindworm so that he looks only into Hux’s eyes. “This way you cannot eat me, husband mine.”

“Call me by my name,” said the lindworm.

“And what would that be?” asked Hux.

“Kylo Ren.”

“Kylo Ren,” Hux repeated, relishing in the sound of the name.

*

Perhaps unsurprisingly Kylo Ren did not seek the throne of a nation who hated him and Naboo in turn would not have an unfit ruler.

Perhaps unsurprisingly Hux did not become the prince consort to Naboo.

Perhaps, surprisingly, Hux found that he did not mind.

Sun and dark, Hux walked and his lovestruck husband followed all the way back to Hux’s castle upon a hill for Hux’s eyes shone brightly and his smile was sharp and he had returned Kylo Ren to humanity.

This time, Hux did not lead his lover over a cliff.

This time, the two live on and settle into the little castle upon a hill and live happily ever after.

*

*

*


End file.
